Adventures in The Lost World 4 - Himalayas going home

It's into the Himalayas day on our Royal Enfield Himalaya bikes. They should feel at home even if we don't.

I slept badly but not terribly and made a cup of tea then did some yoga. It will not be easy when sharing a room to get into yoga poses like downward dogs and cats and cows with a bloke in the room. It shocks my kids if they come down to breakfast to find their father in what they feel are strange semi-sexual poses. But then they're teenagers so any pose is at least semi-sexual. And I don't have to look at me so I don't care!

But it would feel awkward in a small hotel room taking up the floor space with sun salutations.

So get the riding kit laid out for the day, which means t-shirt, body armour, filling the hydration pack, with water and minerals, the boots and jeans with knee and hip protection, then the stuff to go in the panniers, medical kit, hand sanitiser, leather man, duct tape, bungee cords, camera and smokes.

A quick shower and ready for breakfast at seven.

The treat was the roti and the dahl, with some coconut stuff and lots of chai. A spicy breakfast is a good set up for the day.

Back to the room to get the kit on and downstairs for the morning briefing. Follow Alex, stay on the bike and anything can happen.

So off into the maelstrom of Indian town traffic and a quick stop for petrol before heading north, to the mountains. The first stretch of bobbing and weaving through seemingly random manoeuvres gave way to a faster pace with less traffic but more domesticated farm animals strolling or resting in the road. There were few of the buses that charge like rhinos in the built up areas. They really feel they own the road and woe betide any mortal that doesn't give them a wide berth. But the trucks lumber powerfully along spewing unburnt diesel, so overtaking them is best done from a distance. Hugging their rear bumper is not pleasant.

We passed alongside a tiger reserve, with trees and monkeys on one side and paddy fields and soldiers on the other. There seemed a lot of military. And more as we got further north. We stopped for chai at a small settlement, which seemed more like a dozen roadside huts, but spread out in the open were the local butchers,more pigs on blanket than in blanket.

 As expected the chai was excellent and we chatted over a smoke, watching the foot patrol walk up and down the settlement. Well patrol, it was a coupe of fully kitted out soldiers, with helmets and rifles, one held at the ready while the other soldier on the other side of the road had his slung casually on his back.

The van caught up with Lovely, Doc, Asraf the mechanic, the hired driver, the luggage and a spare bike in the back.

So on to the border. About 15 minutes later we pulled to the side as Vidhya worked her magic in the bureaucracy, and we only had to give our driving licence number and sign a log. We were entering the state of Anachal Pradesh, which borders Bhutan and China. 

And the living things changed as we started seriously climbing. Sharp uphill hairpin bends that I had to take in first gear, rocks and sand in the road. The occasional lumbering truck, to keep you on your toes. And up into the land of the Border Road Organisation. In the mountains there is a constant battle of man and machine against nature. The mountains move. Steadily and constantly they creak, so the stable surface of a tar aced road, is not stable for long. Potholes appear, landslides remove whole sections, bits of mountain fall on the road, as rocks, sand and mud. None of which are conducive to biking at speed. But I was loving the bike and the fun of going faster than I could on our last trip to the mountains.

Once we were properly in the mountains we stopped for lunch. Momos. 

At a tiny blue hut, with a pack of dogs outside, good chai inside and delicious soup and momos, let the experts describe. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Momo_(dumpling) 

The guys fed the dogs some biscuits. It was interesting to see the different tactics the dogs used to get attention. Having triplets you notice the tactics, though my kids never wagged their tales they did their own version of sitting up and begging.

However in this land under the influence of Buddhism there was no fighting or even snarling.

Reloaded and rested we continued on up, under the tree canopy, alongside the steep drop into the valley. This was only hundreds of feet of drop, with tress, not the thousands of feet of scree we had a couple of years ago in Himachal Pradesh. But the same kind of deadly nevertheless. 

The road deteriorated into loose rocks and continuous potholes. With stretches of Tarmac. But it was damp, if not wet. I was happily out in front and confident.

Till I came over a small rise and there was a short steep drop to a right hand bend, so I braked, hard. Rear brake only. The back wheel locked and I fought to keep the bike upright. Which worked until the bike had almost stopped when I lost it. Well the bike and any pride. Luckily Will was right behind me and helped me get the bike up and me dusted down. 

The damage was light, a smashed hand guard and some scratches to the handlebar. Lewis came up but had trouble parking his bike. Michael was there soon after with Abhi and Ashraf who checked the bike for damage. Certified it as fine. The others went ahead and I took my sweet time. Of course the road got worse. The tarmac bits had a thick line of diesel which meant going slower as the ideal line for curves was on or through the diesel strip, which would be like ice. So I had to go inside or outside that. The roads got wetter' with that treacherous slimy wetness that comes from a light drizzle after a long dry spell. Then the mudslide, and all this going downhill. I was overly wary but this territory suited Lewis down to the ground. He has been an off road racer for decades and was really enjoying himself. Abhi was trying to stay awake following me. But we finally came to a chai stop. I apologised to Alex for the bike and he took it well, probably because he'd been expecting it and had made us all sign a form accepting responsibility for any damages.

 We stopped for chai at a collection of shacks with their names sponsored by mobile phone companies, but of course no mobile phone company for us.

But there were prayer flags on the hillside. We were coming into the Himalayas. As always in India there is such a mix of people that we would see prayer flags, Muslim dress and Christian schools. Many of the local people are animist, which means believing in the power of the natural world, like Aborigines and Druids. So all living things are their temple.

Winding along a valley bottom we passed through a string of army camps and multiple Slow Police Check, slowing down as the road got narrower and unmarked speed bumps lurked. I hit a few of those going a little faster than I was comfortable with, but you can't see them from a distance and it's only when you're about ten yards away they are obvious. By then braking hard gets you to a 'slightly too fast' speed. But the bikes are really good and I never bottomed the suspension, which seemed to happen a lot with the Bullets. That's when there is no more absorber left and the suspension thingies bang against the end of the tube thing they're in. I think. But it does bang, but it didn't with me, on the Himalaya.

The last stretch got cold as we wound up again to Bomdila. Tight tight uphill hairpins. But uphill is fine. I started really hoping it wouldn't rain for the downhill journey back.

Bomdila seems to go on for ages, with roadside buildings tucked close to the road on a steep hill. And suddenly we pulled up to the hotel. There was not enough space for the bikes in the hotel car park, which would just fit a small car. So some of us left them beside the road. Some guy was telling to park it on some guys front step, but I waited for Alex's orders. The guy was the hotel owner' I just didn't know that at the time.

The van arrived soon after and we lugged our cases up to some pretty basic and cold rooms. There was no rush to get out of the biker gear. At least we could add more layers, like a fleece, a second scarf, a cap.

And off into town to search for beer. The beer was close by, across form the hotel but the shop looked closed as it was barred. The minimum beer strength was 8%, which we knew from experience would not be a good idea. So we wandered a few paces up the hill and pretended to be interested in some guys either putting up or taking down a large wooden podium in the stadium. Logically it would be taking it down as the Chief Minister for the state had visited two days before, but they seemed to be putting it up. The stadium floor had carefully arrayed poles sticking between 3 and 5 metres out of the ground, hundreds of them. We never figured out the purpose.

The booze shop across the road also looked closed. But we rolled up to the window and a guy rushed from next door and scooted through a tiny door below the serving counter, which was behind the steel grill. Checking out the alcohol content we found some Fosters and Kingfisher at only 5% and loaded up with those. They were already chilled from being in the open air.

Alex and Abhi were in a small stall opposite the hotel, both had bought hats, Alex's more traditional ski type hat, Abhi had on a slightly furry Russian looking thing. They were eating delicious fried spicy things out of rolled up newspaper. So we ordered more.

Back in the hotel we found the restaurant, rearranged the furniture and started a session. Everyone was fully wrapped up in their biker gear with extra layers.

I was foolishly sitting by the wall, which was providing the chill factor to the room. Will noticed it first and moved away. We drank, food arrived, I started a beer an tower. The kids knocked it down, repeatedly. We joked and talked and smoked and drank. And found different headgear to keep warm.

 

 

 And off to a cold room that smelt of damp and bathroom mould. But I didn't really care, the bedcovers were warm and I had a room to myself again and could dread the journey back down the hill.